


Dinners Are A Bear

by greeneggs101, Violet_Janou



Series: And Hamish Makes Three [17]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 06:30:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greeneggs101/pseuds/greeneggs101, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violet_Janou/pseuds/Violet_Janou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Actually, that's not true. Christmas is a time of peace and thanksgiving and— what am I going on about? My Christmasses are always like this.”-<i> Doctor Who: Voyage of the Damned</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinners Are A Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas(: From both Greeneggs and I we do wish you all happy holidays with whoever you are spending them with. We hope that you enjoy the second installment of the Watson-Holmes 3 day Christmas extravaganza. 
> 
> Comments are loved and appreciated

It was Christmas Day and Sherlock was up early. Not due to the fact that Hamish came barreling down the steps to wake up his Dad and Papa to open up gifts, and spend all day in their pajamas while John made breakfast and Sherlock and Hamish put on Doctor Who and played with his toys. No, Sherlock was up he felt he was going to die. He was facing his own personal hell today. Going to his parents’ house. 

Last night when they got back from John’s hell of a childhood home, they had picked up Chinese per Hamish’s request. When they got home, Sherlock had cleared off the coffee table in the living room making it a place where he and John would be able to eat off of as they sat on the couch while Hamish would sit in John’s chair. John had decided to start a fire and put on the film White Christmas. A start of a new family tradition they agreed on. 

But that was last night, and about three this morning Sherlock was wide awake and on edge. He actually had no idea how the day at his parent’s house would go. Which made him worry even more. Putting the kettle on he stood in the kitchen, his bare feet standing on the tile as he thought about the day ahead of them and began to dread it. He wanted to smoke, but he had is one cigarette a year last night. 

“Worried?” came a voice from behind Sherlock. John smiled as he walked over to him and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s slim torso. He looked up at the taller man and brush his curl out of his face. “I feel if we can survive the wrath of the Watson house we can survive your family.” 

Sherlock chuckled. “You would think,” he said as he kissed John on the nose. “John,” he said as he pulled out two cups from the cabinet. John stopped as he pulled the milk out of the fridge. “Could we call and tell them that Hamish got I don’t know… mad cow last night and we can’t make it out there?” 

“No,” John said looking at Sherlock. Sherlock sighed as he got the coffee ready for them. There was a slight knock on the kitchen door. 

“Happy Christmas boy,” Ms. Hudson said as John walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. “These,” she said hanging them to John. “We delivered last night for you three and I have some biscuits for you to bring to your parent’s Sherlock.” 

Sherlock walked over and took the container of Ms. Hudson’s famous biscuits. Giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek before she handed them over to Sherlock. 

“I made them so Hamish would be able to eat them,” she pointed out. Sherlock smiled as he popped one into his mouth. “But I wanted to tell you I am off to my sisters and I won’t be back till late tonight.” 

“Okay, we will wait up and make sure you get home,” John told her as he laid the suits over the back of the stool. 

“You don’t need to, and we are still on for Boxing Day tomorrow correct?” she asked them. 

“Of course,” Sherlock told her as he took another biscuit. “I wouldn’t want to miss out on a home cooked meal from not our housekeeper,” he said as Ms. Hudson hit his arm. “Hamish is looking forward to it as well.”

“Be safe, tell Hamish I said Happy Christmas,” she said as she was about to walk out. “Oh, and Sherlock don’t kill your parents either love. And leave some of those for your son, I made them more for him than you, you mooch.” 

Sherlock took a sip of his coffee and looked at Ms. Hudson, “Why would I do that? Mycroft wouldn’t help me hide the bodies.” 

“Sherlock,” John sighed as Ms. Hudson laughed shaking her head as she made her way down the steps. John grabbed himself a biscuit and his coffee mug before he headed up the steps to wake up Hamish to get him ready for the long day ahead of them. 

When John entered his room Hamish was already awake, he was sitting in his bed. John handed him the biscuit as Hamish smiled and asked him, “Dad, are all grandparents mean?” 

“What?” John asked as he picked up the duvet that his son had kicked off his bed in the middle of the night. “No.” John paused. “Your Papa’s parents are nice people. I believe.” 

“Why haven’t I met them? Uncle Myccy has been over dozens of times.” Hamish explained as he took a bite of the biscuit. 

“Hamish, he has only been over a handful of times,” John corrected his son as he took a sip of his coffee and began to pick up his son’s toys and toss them into his toy chest. 

Hamish shook his head, “No. Sometimes he comes over when Ms. Hudson is watching me and you and Papa are out catching bad guys.” 

John looked at his son confused. He had no idea that Mycroft was… well so involved in Hamish’s life. But he let the thought pass as he looked at Hamish. “Okay, well we need to shower, eat a proper breakfast and then get you in the suit your grandparents sent over.” 

Hamish nodded as he slid out of bed; leaving his glassed on his bedside table he headed down the steps to wish his Papa a Happy Christmas. “Dad remember to record the Doctor Who Christmas Special.” John told him he would as Hamish headed down the hallway and into the bathroom. John shook his head as he pulled out the bread to make toast for Hamish. 

“So I take it Mycroft was the barer of the suits?” John asked as Sherlock was on his fourth biscuit as he plopped down in his gray leather chair, he turned on the Telly and set the show to record for his son. 

“Anthea was the one who would have dropped them off,” Sherlock said as he swallowed the biscuit. “My brother is too lazy to actually get over here to do that himself.” John set Hamish’s breakfast on the table for him as he brought the ‘presents’ from Mycroft into his room to take a look at them. 

The suit for Sherlock didn’t seem much different than Sherlock’s every day wear with the exception of the tie. Which would be a fight to get him to wear. John’s suit it was unlike any suit he had ever worn in his life, and more expensive than any suit he would ever buy for himself. It was a deep navy tailored suit with a gray shirt and then a tie for him as well. He took Hamish’s suit with came with its own clip on bow tie. How their son was going to A) where the suit and then B) not ruin it would be a miracle to see happen. Grabbing it John headed back out into the kitchen, Hamish held a present in his hands as he looked at John. 

“Can I open one before we go?” he asked. John nodded his head as Hamish tore open the box. His jaw dropped as he saw he now was the proud owner of (another) sonic screw driver. “It’s just like the11th Doctors!” he called out as hugged his dad and then ran over to Sherlock and jumped into his lap and hugged him. 

“Okay Doctor we now need to get ready,” John said as he held up his suit. Hamish made a face and looked at Sherlock for help. 

“Do we have to wear them?” Sherlock pouted. 

“Sadly yes,” John told Sherlock. Hamish took his suit and headed up the steps to get ready. Sherlock got up and pulled John on the arms and smiled. 

“At least I’ll be able to stare at your backside in a suit. I haven’t been able to do that since the wedding,” Sherlock told John as he gave him a kiss. John couldn’t help but smile, even after being married for a year and a half, and dating for nearly 5 they still acted as if they were still in the honeymoon stage of dating. 

When John got up to Hamish’s room he saw the distaste in his son’s face. He didn’t like the suit. “Dad it’s uncomfortable,” he said with a wiggle. “And stiff.” John finished buttoning up his shirt and added the bow tie. 

“Well you have your cool bow tie,” John told. “I will bring you a change of clothes okay?” he said kissing his son on the top of his head. Once he was finished John gathered a pair of trousers for his son and then a simple navy jumper and his trainers. Heading back down it was now John’s turn to get himself put together. 

Sherlock walked back into their room after he got the bag for Hamish packed as John was fixing his tie. “I feel like a monkey in this suit,” he explained to his husband. Sherlock looked stunning as ever, his body was almost made to wear suits. John’s however was not. 

“Well, you’re my monkey,” Sherlock said as he kissed John on the back of his neck, as he did they heard the doorbell ring. The car was there for them that Mycroft had sent. “He is always early,” Sherlock grumbled as he slapped John’s arse and walked out of their room. John followed as he grabbed the bag of gifts for Sherlock’s family. They got their coats on; Sherlock took Hamish’s bag as they made their way down to the car. 

The drive was shorter than the drive to the Watson’s. Soon the scenery became the scenes of much richer neighborhood of Belgravia. “Papa, what should I call your parents?” Hamish asked as he pointed his Sonic at him. The green light lit up as it buzzed. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Holmes,” Sherlock explained to him. He then felt John’s eyes on him. “Or you can call them Grandma and Grandpa. Whatever you prefer.” Hamish nodded as he turned out the window to watch as the car began to slow down. 

John looked around as the car pulled up to what Sherlock called a house. But to the normal human the place was a mansion. “Papa,” Hamish said looking with wide eyes and his face pressed to the glass. “You grew up in a very very very large house.” 

The car came to a stop as Sherlock opened up his door. “Yes,” he told him as Sherlock saw the front door open and a woman stood in the doorway. 

“Sherly!” a voice cried out. Sherlock cringed a little as he picked up Hamish’s bag and stood up out of the car. John tried not to giggle as he picked up Hamish and then the presents. Shutting the door Sherlock waited for John to walk around the car and they headed up the long walkway together. 

“Sherly?” he asked as Hamish took his hand. Sherlock shot him the death look as John looked at the women in the door. She was tall, very petite. Her eyes were of a very deep green. Her face was long and narrow just like her sons. Her long black hair was pulled back in a French twist as she stood in a black dress with a red cardigan. 

“Hello Mother,” Sherlock said as she hugged her youngest son. 

“Oh Sherly its been years! And this must be Mr. Watson. Myccy has told s so much about you,” She told John with a smile. 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, “Then surly mother he has told you that John is a Doctor.” 

“Oh, right yes my apologies Doctor Watson,” she told him as she bent down to see Hamish who had the death grip on John’s trousers. “And you must be my grandson. It’s nice to meet you Hamish.” He ducked behind John, suddenly becoming very shy. 

John put a hand on Hamish and looked up at his mother in law. “Sorry, we had a bit of a rough day yesterday so he is a tad shy now,” John explained to Mrs. Holmes. 

“That is fine,” she told John her face bright and cheery. “Come on in dear; let’s get your out of the cold.” As they walked into the entry way John’s mouth literally dropped. The house, no correction the mansion was gigantic and beautiful. The floors were of rich deep wood and the walls had beautiful wallpaper to them. One of the staff at the Holmes mansion came and took the presents from John as they slipped off their coats while another member of the staff took them and hung them in the closet for them. Hamish kept his grip on John’s trousers as he stuck his sonic screwdriver into his pocket. “How was the drive dear?” Mrs. Holmes asked as they walked down the hall. 

“Fine mother,” Sherlock said as he looked at his Hamish to see how he was doing. 

John chuckled, “all the ten minutes of it. Why didn’t you say you lived so close to your parents?” he asked Sherlock. Sherlock said nothing as they walked into the parlor. His father was still absent from the picture, no doubt he was with his golden son Mycroft. 

“Hamish love, Sherly and Myccy’s old playroom is full of toys if you want to go across the way and play till lunch is done,” Sherlock mother told him. Hamish looked at her and then up at his Dad and over to his Papa. 

“He is fine mother,” Sherlock informed her as he took a seat on the couch. Hamish moved from John’s trouser leg and took a seat on his Papa’s lap. John took a seat next to Sherlock on the couch as he took it all in. Sherlock wrapped his hands around Hamish as he burred his face into his Papa’s chest. Mrs. Holmes excused herself as she went to retrieve her other son and husband. She shut the big wooden door and left John, Sherlock and Hamish alone in the parlor. 

“What’s wrong Hal?” John asked as he put a hand on his son’s back. 

Hamish turned his head, his glasses titled on his face as he looked at his Dad. “It’s too big.” 

“What is?” 

“The house John,” Sherlock answered him. “The echoing, and the expanded space is overpowering to his senses. And he’s meeting so many new people. It’s overwhelming.” 

John pushed his lips together and looked at Sherlock and then Hamish. “Oh Hamish, I’m sorry,” John said as he wrapped an arm around his husband and son. John heard the door open and Mycroft, without the umbrella, appeared. 

“Hamish,” Sherlock told him. “We can go and look at the toys in the play”- but he was cut off as Hamish’s head shot up. 

“Uncle Myccy!” he called out jumping from his father’s lap and tackling Mycroft at the legs in a hug. Sherlock looked at his brother and then turned to look at John. Anger was boiling in his blood. 

“John, why is our son hugging the British Government?” he hissed. 

Clearing his throat John looked at Sherlock, “he informed me that well… your brother comes and visits while we are on cases while Ms. Hudson is watching Hamish for us,” John explained as he stood up to greet Mycroft. 

“How is my favourite nephew?” Mycroft asked as he picked up Hamish. He turned to his mother, “Mummy, father will be down in a moment.” 

Sherlock stood up, he wanted to snatch his son from Mycroft’s evil claws but he saw that his son actually liked him. John put a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder and they took their seats again as they waited for Sherlock and Mycroft’s father to join them. 

“Can I get anyone anything to drink? Doctor Watson?” Mrs. Holmes asked. 

John shook his head. “I’m okay,” he told her as staff member came in with a drinks tray. John unbuttoned his suit jacket as he tried to sit up and act like he knew what the hell he was doing with these people. 

“There is no need to be nervous John,” Mrs. Holmes told him as she set the drink tray on the table in the parlor. 

“He isn’t,” Sherlock told his mother as he took up as his father came into the room. Sherlock looked at Mycroft, “I would like my son back.” 

Mycroft sighed but complied with Sherlock’s request. “We’ll go and see the toys after we have lunch,” Mycroft told Hamish as he went and stood next to Sherlock. Hamish froze as he saw his other grandfather walk into the parlor. He was a tall man as well. His eyes were the blue of his Papa’s but his face was rounded like Mycroft’s. His hair was graying but still think and full. 

“Okay Uncle Myccy,” Hamish leaned back into Sherlock. John picked up his son as they headed to the dining room. So far it had been going pretty well, Sherlock’s parents didn’t seem upset about his son’s life partner which was nice. John was going to let Sherlock and Mycroft duke whatever they needed to out before lunch on the walk through the vast house. He didn’t need war at the table. 

“Why have your brainwashed my son?” Sherlock snarled at his older brother as they walked slower than the rest to the dining room. 

Mycroft laughed. “I have done nothing Sherlock, your son has his own mind and he like spending time with his uncle, is that bad?” Mycroft asked him as he walked to the dining room. Sherlock rolled his eyes as he followed his brother. He didn’t want to sulk at lunch, so to bring up his spirits Sherlock thought of ways to kill his brother using only a fork. 

They all took their seats at the table. It was set with the best china and crystal wine glasses. The kitchen staff came out with the food and placed it all out on the table for them to eat from. “How are you doing Sherlock,” his father asked as he poured himself a glass of port before he sat down at the head of the table. 

“Fine.” Sherlock said as he looked at the food. “Hamish can’t eat most of this,” he pointed out. “He is allergic, I think I told”-

“We know,” Mycroft told him as a special plate was brought out for Hamish. “It’s all free of glutton.” John thanked Mycroft as he placed a hand on Sherlock’s knee and gave it three squeezes. “It’s nice, be nice,” he whispered to his husband. Sherlock sulked in his chair but didn’t say anything further. 

“Why has it taken you so long to introduce us to your husband Sherlock? And your son?” Mrs. Holmes asked as she took a bite of her salad. 

“Busy.” Sherlock told her as he made sure the food wasn’t too hot for Hamish to eat, as well as if there was no poison in it. 

“Oh yes, with your hobby,” she said with a slight roll of her eyes as the kitchen staffed poured her a glass of red wine. 

“It’s not a hobby,” Sherlock said as he played with the food on his plate. Hamish looked at his Papa; a bit confused at what hobby was she talking about. 

“Sherlock,” she told him with a raise of her eyebrow. “Chasing criminals as a consultant isn’t an appropriate occupation. It’s a hobby.” She sighed as she looked over at John. “I’m sure Doctor Watson doesn’t appreciate you being out all hours.” 

“He is always with me,” Sherlock said sticking his chicken with his knife. 

John cleared his throat. Sure he complained to Sherlock about this as they ran after killers, or were being shot at. But Sherlock knew John loved it and he wouldn’t rather be doing anything else with Sherlock. “We make it work,” John told her. “Sherlock does great work and saves a lot of lives with what he does.” 

“He could have been a great lawyer,” Sherlock’s father chimed in. “With his brains and appeal he would have been very successful. Making much more than he is now.” 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “If you couldn’t tell father I don’t do my work for money. And I would be bored as a lawyer.” 

“Why don’t we save this conversation so we don’t spoil lunch,” Mycroft said to his parents. John agreed and was happy as they subject was finally dropped. He finished off his salad as he began to eat his baked potato. 

“I’m just so glad Sherlock found someone,” his mother said as she began a conversation again. John kicked Sherlock to tell him to stop rolling his eyes as his mother. “He was such a lonely child. So strange.” 

John tensed back up again. This was going to be a long day. But he was happy that Sherlock kept his mouth shut and lunch ended soon after. Getting up Sherlock’s parents went to retire in the drawing room while Mycroft, Sherlock and John went with Hamish to the playroom. “We added a few more toys that might catch Hamish’s interests,” Mycroft told his brother and John as he opened up the door. 

Hamish stood behind John and peaked his head around his legs to looking into the room. The walls were a pale blue with a tan rug. The room was full of very kind of toy a child could think of. There was also a table and chairs no doubt where Sherlock would have his afternoon tea while he was a child. “You can play with whatever you want,” Mycroft said as Hamish looked up at his uncle. 

“No,” Hamish said as he held onto John’s trousers. “I don’t want to be alone.” John and Sherlock exchanged looks as John walked over to the toy chest. He smiled as he saw a hat with a purple feather in it. 

“Hal, I think this used to be your Papa’s,” John laughed as he pulled out an old pirate hat. Hamish walked over to John as he knelt on his knee and placed the hat on top of his sons head. Hamish giggled as he looked into the toy chest and pulled out an aeroplane Captains hat. Handing his Dad the old hat, he dawned the now one and smiled. 

“I want to be an aeroplane!” he called out as he climbed onto the table. 

John stood up and placed the pirate hat on his Husband’s head, smiling he turned and looked at their son. “Do you mean a Captain?” 

“Nope,” Hamish said. “I want to be an aeroplane!” He cried out as he jumped into Sherlock’s outstretched arms. He pulled his son into his body, lifting the hat up he kissed him on the nose. 

“And you will be a fantastic one at that,” he laughed as Hamish wiggled out of his arms and went over to the chest to see what else was in there. It was time for John and Sherlock to make their exit but they stopped as Hamish went running after them. 

“Papa I don’t want to be alone.” 

“Hamish, your Papa and Dad need to spend some time with Papa’s parents,” Mycroft explained to him. “We will be across the hall in the drawing room.” Hamish shook his head as he held onto John’s trousers. 

“I can stay for a little longer,” John told Hamish as he smiled and walked back to the toy chest. “But then I will have to go with Papa.” Hamish nodded as he pulled out a cowboy hat for his Dad to wear. Sherlock set his pirate hat down and he and Mycroft left the room. John looked around the room. It quickly became apparent that Mycroft did more than add some toys. It was more likely 98 percent of the were new. John had to give the man credit he came off as a prick but he had a heart that was bigger than anyone he had seen from the family to show love and compassion for Hamish. Taking a look at the toy chest Hamish was digging in John began to think of where the one in Hamish’s room came from. 

“Hello,” came a familiar voice. John looked up and saw Anthea at the door. She was without a Blackberry in her face. “I’m to keep an eye on Hamish while you keep them from starting WWIII.” She told John with a smile. 

“Oh,” John said. He turned as Hamish looked at Anthea. “This is um….” 

“Just call me Auntie,” She said as Hamish walked up to her. 

“You work for Uncle Myccy,” he said. “I can tell.” 

“He is smart,” Anthea pointed out as John took off the cowboy hat. “I do, is that going to be a problem?” 

Hamish shook his head. “As long as you can be my flight attendant we will get off smashingly.” 

Anthea knelt down and smiled. “Anything you say Captain Hamish.” John thanked Anthea before his son wrapped her up in a game of aeroplane. He made his way to the drawing room across the hall. Sherlock was sitting in the corner of a couch, his arms folded over his chest. “Sorry, this shyness is a new thing with him,” John said as he took a seat next to Sherlock. 

The Holmes sure knew how to embrace the awkward silence. No one said anything for what seemed to be ages. John shifted on the couch in his suit. Looking up at Sherlock he realized that his tie was missing. He looked at him; Sherlock gave a slight smile and a shrug. John rolled his eyes and covered his face trying not to crack up laughing. 

A few hours later John, Sherlock and Hamish found themselves in the Holmes dining room, this time for an elaborate five course dinner. They weren’t even onto the main dish when Mrs. Holmes decided to bring up the conversation from earlier up. “Sherly, I just feel it’s unhealthy for you to raise a son while you have an ill fitted profession like the one you have chosen,” his other explained to him as she took a sip of her win. 

John clenched his jaw as Sherlock looked at him. He needed to behave in a decent manner for their son. Taking a deep breath Sherlock put bread into his mouth and chewed. He didn’t have to talk this way if there was food in his mouth. 

“And Hamish,” Mr. Holmes said as he looked at his grandson. He looked up from his plate of food and pushed his glasses up on his face. “What are you plans for the future?” 

John looked at Sherlock. Their son was six, all he could think about was watching Doctor Who and traveling in the TARDIS. Sherlock chewed harder as they waited to see what their son had to say. “I want to be an aeroplane,” he said as he looked at the food on his plate, he didn’t know what it was. John knew he wasn’t going to eat it. 

“You mean an airline Captain?” 

Hamish shook his head. “No, meant what I said, I want to be an aeroplane.” 

Sherlock’s father laughed. “Hamish you are being a tad bit ridiculous. Now you should be looking into politics. Then you can own your own aeroplane.” 

“Father,” Sherlock sighed. “Please don’t start this…” John looked at Sherlock, a bit worried to know what was about to start from his new father in law. 

Sherlock’s father put his hand in the air, “I’m just saying, if he wants to have a future in anyway when it comes to the political realm there are finer primary schools than the one you have him in. I mean if they are teaching children they could be machines.” 

“The school we have Hamish in is perfect. And he is six, I wanted to be a pirate when I was six,” Sherlock snarled at him. “Now can we drop this topic?” 

“Why can’t I be an aeroplane Uncle Myccy?” Hamish asked looking up at him. 

“You my dear Hamish,” Mycroft told him. “Can do and be whatever you want to be.” Hamish smiled and turned and looked at his Papa’s father. 

“It’s rubbish, I’m sure Mycroft could find a better school and get him in no questions asked. Perhaps that boarding school we sent you to.”

Sherlock almost chocked on his food as he turned and looked at his father. John had not seen this much anger in Sherlock since Moriarty tried to make out that he wasn’t real. “I’m not abandoning my son at a boarding school!” Sherlock yelled at his father. 

“Sherlock,” his father’s deep voice said as he gave his son a look to calm down. “We did not abandon you. I had elections and your brother had to go to University. We all had obligations.” 

Sherlock snorted and shook his head. “But caring for your son wasn’t one obviously,” he explained. “You may say what you want father, but we, that is John and I. Not you. We don’t want our son being shipped off to some god forsaken school. He will never, ever go to such a horrible place as boarding school, especially the one I was tortured at,” Sherlock said. 

John put his hand on Sherlock’s and gave it one long squeeze. “Plus,” John chimed in. “The school Hamish attends now is great and works with our schedule.” John was praying that they could make it through dinner. Just dinner presents would be a bonus for them. 

“So you just stop mid case to pick up your son?” Sherlock’s father asked John as Sherlock looked up as Anthea pulled out her phone and began to text. She knew the rules, no phones at the table but Sherlock said nothing about it. 

“We do when we can, if not his Aunt Sarah picks Hamish up for us,” John explained to his father in law. Sherlock watched as his body grew stiff and he sat up. He was getting his soldier mode on. Someone was trying to insult his family and John, he never stood for it. 

“Yet another reason Sherlock needs a proper job,” Mrs. Holmes stepped in. “I mean Sherly look John works at the sur-” 

John had had about enough. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, keeping his cool as he spoke but coming across both pissed and annoyed. “Sherlock saves lives doing what he does. He can tell who the murder is just by a glance at a crime scene and prevents more murders from occurring. He’s a great detective. Yes we may work odd hours and sometimes we might have a family dinner at 10 but we always eat dinner as a family. We have friends who are gracious to help with Hamish, who care about him and want to be a part of our sons’ life,” John took a deep breath as he unclenched his fists. “And one final thing. You complain that Sherlock hasn’t come to see you, but if you cared so much I’m sure you knew where we lived. You could have come to visit your grandson then.” 

Sherlock’s mother and father sat there and looked at John. “I mean hell, Mycroft comes and helps with Hamish when we are on a case,” Sherlock said as he looked up at his brother. Mycroft looked at his brother; it was Sherlock’s way of saying ‘thank you’. 

“Sherlock, darling we have been very busy with your father retiring and”- 

“I’m sick of your bullocks you give us!” Sherlock yelled as he slammed his hands on the table. He loved to be dramatic, but John didn’t stop him. He needed to make a point. He had been a fairly good son this visit so far by keeping his mouth shut. 

“A word in the kitchen?” John asked as he got up and he and Sherlock left the dining room. When they got into the kitchen John looked at his husband, he place a hand on his face and looked at him in his eyes. “Do you want to leave?” he asked. 

“Yes,” Sherlock told him. “I tried John, I want you to know that I tried so much to do this for Hal and I wanted…” Sherlock stopped as he placed his head on John’s shoulder and he pulled his husband into a hug. 

“Papa,” came Hamish’s voice as he walked into the kitchen. “Are we going home?” 

“Yes,” John said as Sherlock stood up and pulled himself together. 

“Perhaps a nice dinner at Angelo’s?” a voice rang out behind them. The three Watson-Holmes boys turned around to see Mycroft lingering in the doorway. 

Sherlock looked at his brother; he had no idea what kind of trick he was trying to play. “Nonsense, Angelo is with his family.” 

“Actually, he said that he already fired up the ovens and has ½ portions of your usual’s ready to go in.” Anthea said looking up from her phone as she emerged from behind Mycroft. 

“Well that settles it,” Sherlock said. “We are leaving,” he then turned and looked at his brother. He opened his mouth and then closed it trying to figure out the best way to say what he needed to say. Fumbling for words he took a deep breath and said, “It appears that Hamish… enjoys your presence… if it wouldn’t ruin your diet, would you like to join us?” 

John chuckled and muttered, “A Christmas miracle.” 

Mycroft stood there for a few moments and then agreed to join them. He went to get the presents as John, Sherlock and Hamish stayed put in the kitchen. Anthea headed to the front to collect the rest of their things and bring them to them. 

“The car has pulled around back,” she said as she handed John the coats and finished packing up Hamish’s bag for Sherlock. 

John handed Sherlock his coat as he helped Hamish into his and go him bundled up with his scarf, gloves and hat. John slipped his own coat on as Mycroft came back into the kitchen with two bags full of presents. “Anthea,” John said. “We would be sad if you didn’t join us as well.” She smiled as she put on her coat and helped Mycroft carry the bags to the car. 

Once in the car, they headed on to Central London to Angelo’s. Hamish sat on John’s lap as they drove. He pulled out his Sonic and began to play around with it. “Dad,” Hamish said looking at him. “It’s not ridiculous that I want to be an aeroplane is it?” 

“Nope,” John said kissing his son as the head. “Not at all.” 

Hamish smiled and looked at Mycroft. “I’m glad you came Uncle Myccy and Auntie.” Sherlock said nothing but smiled as the car stopped in front of Angelo’s. They didn’t want to keep Angelo but he said not to worry. Dinner was smother than John had anticipated it would go. After eating they headed back to the car to head to 221b to open the presents from Sherlock’s parents. 

John was shocked at this civil side of Sherlock. Something was up with him, John knew this. On the ride over John nudged Sherlock as Hamish explained to Anthea about his Sonic and he sat on his Uncle’s lap. “So this… civility… onetime thing?” he asked

“I don’t know John,” Sherlock admitted as he looked at his brother. 

“What is the catch?” he asked him. The car stopped at 221b. Hamish jumped out, he wanted to show Anthea their house as well as get out of the suit. Mycroft followed as John told him they could get the presents from the boot of the car. “I’m out of cigarette I hope you know,” John joked with him as he pulled out one of the two bags. Sherlock shut the boot and then stopped John from moving. 

“I was thinking another reward would be suitable tonight for my actions once our son crashes from his sugar high,” Sherlock told him with a side smile. John stole a kiss from Sherlock’s lips. 

“We might be able to arrange that.” He said kissing him again. “I am sorry about today,” he told him. 

Sherlock shrugged as snow began to fall. “Your parents were arses and mine were twats. We’re lucky we ended up normal,” Sherlock said as he looked up to see Hamish tapping on the glass. 

John laughed as he took Sherlock’s hand. “Normal isn’t the word I would choose,” he looked up as Hamish pressed his face against the glass. “We better get up there before he Sonic’s us to death or dies of a heart attack.” John told Sherlock as he squeezed his hand three time and they headed up to their home. The black door and the gold letters of 221b blocked out the world for a little while longer.


End file.
